


Worth the wait

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: A Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Fingering, I'm just not telling you who does what to whom!, Multi, Oral Sex, There is more than a hint of Cinderella going on here, a bit of rimming, a two man mission, and an opportunity for a few more chapters or fics at some point, drugged wine, full male on female sex, full man on man sex, getting a bit man on man, horny!, interesting side effects, lucky lady, not the correct amount, observed by a tragic daughter, she is one lucky, she's a bit like Cinders!, there will be hand jobs, treated to all kinds of smut, waking up in bed, who needs a plot?, you'll have to read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22324249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: Once upon a time I wrote a fic with Athos and Porthos involved with the same woman.....albeit not at the same time.In the eye of the beholder requested a threesome....a bit of sharing...and I did promise.....so here you go!This is a very thinly veiled version of Cinderella....I'm not sure whether Porthos is the Fairy Godmother and Athos is Buttons or vice versa?!There really isn't much plot....but who cares!
Relationships: Athos and OC, Athos | Comte de la Fère/Porthos du Vallon, Porthos and OC
Comments: 21
Kudos: 9





	1. The wine appears to be of high quality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [In the eye of the beholder](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=In+the+eye+of+the+beholder), [LulaIsAKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/gifts).



The wine had been good.  
The food plentiful, and despite Athos’ initial misgivings about the general ambiance in the chateau he and Porthos were enjoying themselves.

They had been granted a trestle table and benches in the main hall, the lord and his slightly stern looking wife seated at the top of the room on a dais.  
Their mission had been a simple one, hence why Aramis and D’Artagnan had remained in Paris, they simply needed to accept, verify and accompany canvases showing the reported beauty of the Lord’s daughters back to Paris so that they may be considered as appropriate matches for one of the King’s closest noblemen’s son.

The suitor in question was actually rather well liked by Athos and his fellow musketeers – being the second born son he had been granted more freedom to explore his own interests, which had meant he had learned swordsmanship, archery and shooting skills via private lessons from Aramis, Athos and D’artagnan over the past year or so. However, the untimely death of his eldest brother had put paid to this, and now Richard was expected to marry and produce an heir…and a spare if possible.

The match selected for his elder brother had been considered unsuitable, from both parties, and thus the hunt was on for an alternative.   
Richard himself had requested a second opinion from Athos in relation to the proposed ladies whose names had been put forwards – although his request had been infintinely more linked to their personality, interests and wit rather than looks alone.   
Athos had admired the young buck even more, and hence he and Porthos were at a chateau to the South West of Paris having insisted on meeting the ladies in person, or at least witnessing their manners and general demeanours.

Two canvases had been shown to the musketeers shortly after their arrival, with the promise that the actual ladies themselves would appear in the evening.

They had been shown to a relatively sumptuous chamber where they had been able to wash before the evening, and their horses were being well cared for in the stables.  
They were therefore both sipping from goblets of very decent wine and awaiting the late arrival of the two ladies they had been asked to assess in person.

They had received many sideways glances throughout the evening.   
The candlelight cast both swarthy men in a charismatic glow, and their dark, rugged handsomeness, combined with the general stature of Porthos, and the almost aristocratic, clipped tones of Athos made then highly desirable potential conquests.

“I’m not sure about that lot,” Porthos’ whispered baritone was met with a curt nod and throaty grunt from his colleague.

“They seem…..shifty,” he replied, taking a further draft from his goblet and savouring the quality of the wine on his tongue.

Their gazes took in the family seated behind the top, trestle table which was laden with the most sumptuous food and wines.   
The Lord did not appear to relish his food or wine, and the female seated to his right, although attractive, had a steely glint behind her eyes. 

“I heard that there was a third daughter,” Athos continued, wiping his lips between his thumb and fingers before reaching for a piece of cheese and slotting it between his teeth. “Daughter of The Lord and his first wife….she was apparently a well renowned beauty…..died birthing the girl…..but then he remarried and well….”

“So what happened to the other one then?” Porthos asked, his interest piqued by the tale and by the languid manner in which Athos told it.

“We assume she followed her mother’s fate…..otherwise surely we’d be assessing 3 potential beauties not two,” he lifted his hand and signalled for more wine.

A slightly differently, rather smartly dressed page came to replace their goblets rather than take them to refill and the pair of musketeers vaguely noticed the change of vessels (which were now, rather beautiful silver goblets) and Athos noted a slight change in flavour of the wine, but assumed it was merely from a different cask. It still tasted of incredibly high quality and they sipped and ate as the general noise in the hall rose.

Porthos had downed his wine and assumed this, combined with the warmth in the hall was what had made his eyesight a little blurred.   
Athos had noticed an increase in the volume of noise, and a slight inability to focus, but assumed it was the drink affecting him.   
As a seasoned drinker he knew that eating a little more bread and taking fewer or smaller sips would rectify it….although it didn’t seem to be having it’s usual impact.

A fanfare signalled the entrance of the two ladies and both musketeers were able to make out the out of focus features of 2 tall, elegantly dressed, dark haired women. They bore themselves with clear aristocratic breeding and posed themselves almost regally at their seats before facing towards Athos and Porthos and giving slight inclinations of their heads and raising their ornately jewelled goblets.   
Athos tried to focus his eyes, but although he could make out the face and dark eyes, pale complexions of each female he could not clearly see whether the fine features depicted on the paintings bore any resemblance to the actual faces. Nevertheless he raised his wine drank a toast to them.   
He would surely be able to discover more about their personalities as the evening wore on.  
The last thing he recalled however was the bulk of Porthos slumping against him with a grunting gurgle, and he dimly felt himself lapse into unconsciousness…..he recalled the sensation of being lifted by his upper arms and dragged along the floor and internally wondering, ‘how the hell has my tolerance for wine become so fucking low?’


	2. One, seething mass of writhing, leather clad muscle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porthos and Athos wake up having been dumped 'unconscious' in a cellar....with a bed!!! (why not?)  
> Athos didn't drink all of his, and Porthos' dose wasn't big enough....so the drug has had the effect of making everyone horny and lacking in inhibitions (hurrah!)  
> Enjoy!

It was Athos who roused first.   
He found himself splayed across a leather strapped bed and mattress, face down with his hand still clutching at the silver goblet in his left hand.  
He groaned and lifted his head, which still felt remarkalbly fuzzy and not at all like the familiar feeling of a hangover.

His senses were filled with a scent which was making him seek it out further, and he found himself burrowing his face against a second body; one which smelled of leather, musk and rosemary.   
He moaned as he crawled towards the aroma, not seemingly able to get enough of the smell in his lungs.  
He rested the goblet, still containing about a third of the contents of wine, on the stone floor and rubbed his palm against the firm bulk of the second occupant of the bed, feeling unashamed as he pulled himself around and rubbed against the other male.   
As he approached the other man’s face Athos smiled, wolfishly and licked his tongue against the thick, dark stubble covering Porthos’ chin.  
“Porthos,” he sighed, and allowed his tongue to trail across his beard and the exposed mahogany coloured skin of his fellow musketeer’s face.

It was an odd sensation; Athos was fully aware of what his body was doing, and how it was reacting to the proximity of his colleague; and yet he was unable to stop himself from acting on impulses which he’d never before allowed himself to indulge in relating to Porthos….of course there had been Aramis in the past….before the Queen came along….but never Porthos.

But this was definitely Porthos!

It was Porthos’s thigh that his palm was rubbing firmly against.  
It was Porthos’s neck that his tongue had trailed down to lick against.  
It was Porthos’s groan that was making him whimper in delight and cling to him like a man possessed.

Porthos became aware of a familiar scent in his nostrils, and a very unfamiliar sensation of a mouth with facial hair attached sucking at his neck.  
He had felt the man increase his intent as he’d groaned himself to a more conscious state; but even with his eyes opened he still felt an odd feeling about him….and not simply because it appeared that Athos was rubbing himself rapturously against him.

Porthos registered the fact that the attention he was accepting from Athos was glorious….and that even though he’d never considered a male as an attractive sexual prospect, this was incredibly erotic…..and he didn’t want it to stop.

He found his hand sliding up the stiff, leather doublet belonging to Athos and delighted in the breathy moan which emanated from the older man.   
He slid his other hand underneath his body and grasped against Athos’ squirming buttocks, pressing him firmly against his thigh and resulting in a shameless shout of delight.  
Porthos sought out Athos’ eyes; both would later concede that the resultant gaze was slightly dissimilar to normal, but it felt as if both were in the same state of arousal and had abandoned all thoughts of usual propriety.

“Jesus…..fucking kiss me!” Porthos had growled, his palm splaying through the long, tousled hair of Athos before pulling their mouths together.

They kissed with a passion fuelled intent; tongues battled as if in combat; neither seeking the win.   
Breathy moans turned into loud pants of delight and hands grabbed at clothing, trying to locate and caress each firm muscle, each inch of exposed skin until the sound of a metal object clattering against the stone floor pulled them momentarily from their frenzied attentions.

Porthos’ hands maintained their teasing cupping of Athos’ backside; both where now kneeling, facing each other on the bed, but Athos was regarding the third person in the room, and the reason behind the dropped goblet.

She was a young, attractive, fair haired female, and she had been watching the 2 slumbering forms since they’d been unceremoniously dropped down into the cellar earlier in the evening. 

This was her domain of the castle; the castle that following the death of her mother she had been treated as a princess….until her father had remarried and she’d been banished from view.  
She had initially been sent to live in a smaller estate in the care of a couple of trusted servants. However on one night, when she was 7 years old, a fire had broken out mysteriously, wiping out the house entirely, with only Mirielle and the old servant, Jean managing to escape.  
In secret he had managed to get her to safety, raising her himself in the forests of the Loire, however his own failing health had forced him to make contact with her father once more. He had arranged for Mirielle to be smuggled into the castle cellars, where she had remained, posing as a servant whenever it was necessary, but mainly she kept to her own small, hidden away series of room, which her father was able to visit from time to time.  
He lived in fear of his second wife, whom he had married purely for money in order to pay taxes on the estate.

Mirielle was 22, and she’d never experienced men before….not men that looked anything like these two specimens anyway!

The males she had encountered were slight, and pale, and often stank, whereas these two were muscular, handsome and smelled of a mixture of leather, clean sweat and pure masculinity.  
She’d attempted to remove the silver goblet from the hand of the smaller male shortly after they had arrived, but his grip was solid, despite her being able to pull back his eyelids to see a blank, unseeing green iris.

Having observed his behaviour upon waking, and then the subsequent behaviour of the other, larger and heavenly dark skinned companion she’d used their self absorbed focus as the opportunity to sneak up and down the sweet tasting wine remaining in the vessel on the floor.

On an empty stomach the liquid had instantly affected her balance, and she’d dropped the goblet to the floor as she reached out for the solidity of the wall as her eyes became slightly blurred; the two male bodies becoming one, seething mass of writhing, leather clad muscle before her gaze.  
One of the men seemed to be speaking to her and she inhaled, steadying herself.

“Would you like to join us?” 

The clipped, deep tone of his voice was like warm honey, trickling across her skin, and as she found herself moving towards the bed be noticed his slightly off-centred lips beneath his moustache and longed to kiss them.

The second man, the larger one smiled down; he had the most beautifully dark eyes, like beads of jet.

“We won’t hurt you,” he stated, moving backwards fractionally as she hitched her skirts and knelt on the bed, resting her palm against their broad shoulders, flexing against the firm muscles beneath their doublets.  
“I want to feel you….I want to feel your skin,” she whispered as she inched her face forwards and licked her tongue into the parted lips of the smaller, longer haired male.  
He welcomed her mouth and slid a hand around her waist, steadying her as he delved his tongue into her warm, wet mouth, tasting her sweetness and the remnants of wine on her tongue as it slid against his exquisitely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is much more fun to come....for all 3!


	3. Are you a maid?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, RobinLS - fair warning this is definitely NSFW!!!!  
> Everyone gets completely carried away......yummy times!!!!  
> This gets really rather rude indeed!!!

Porthos groaned as he watched their kisses develop and almost pulled back, except for Athos’ hand clenching and increasing it’s grip on his hip, sliding around to cup his arse and squeeze purposefully.  
Instead he removed his doublet and cast it onto the floor before leaning down to briefly join the kiss between Athos and the woman, his own tongue and lips swirling against theirs momentarily until he adjusted the girls’ position and angled her neck so that he could plunder her mouth and tease his fingers through her long, naturally curled hair.

Athos removed his doublet and boots, almost taking the time to cast aside his shirt too, but the sight of Porthos and the mystery woman together was making him eager to rejoin their warmth, so he knelt behind the girl and began to kiss the exposed skin at her neck and shoulders, whilst deftly unlacing her stays as his tongue and lips worked.

Having dealt with the ties he peeled the garment from her and groaned as her full breasts were revealed beneath the flimsy fabric of her blouse. His position behind her meant that he had a delightful, unobstructed view down the garment and his mouth opened with the need to taste her further.  
“God…. you are beautiful,” he hissed, caressing his fingertips down her arms and seeking out her lips as Porthos took the opportunity to remove his boots. “Will you let us make love to you?” he asked, sliding both hands around and up her lightly covered torso, cupping the weight of her breasts in his warm palms and rubbing his thumbs against the rapidly stiffening peaks.

She panted the answer of, “Dear God…YES!” as Porthos rejoined them, sliding his hands beneath her skirts and stroking her smooth, slender thighs before the two men adjusted themselves and her in order to lay her between them on the mattress.

“This is Porthos, and I am Athos,” and both men sighed a little as their gazes met and they sucked the others’ tongue back into their mouths as their hands stroked across each others’ chests and shoulders.  
“I am Mireille,” the girl sobbed, and made a delightful whimpering sound as Athos bent across her, nudging aside the fabric of her chemise in order to suckle one of her pearl-hard nipples, teasing it tenderly with his teeth and lips.

Porthos growled, partly at the sound emanating from the beautiful female, and partly because Athos’s backside looked incredibly delightful as the leather stretched across his buttocks to bend towards her.  
He realised that the stiffness in his own breeches had been present since way before Mirielle had made her presence known; and in normal circumstances he would have been confused by his feelings towards Athos….or indeed any man….but weirdly he felt perfectly fine about this; as though some additional level of acceptance had been unleashed within him.

He could see that the button for Mirielle’s skirt was on his side of her and his strong fingers quickly worked it open, and he slid his hands around and beneath her body to remove the garment, leaving just a plain petticoat covering her lower half.  
He noticed that her feet were small, and appeared clean, and he spent a while stroking each one, kissing the smooth skin atop each and allowing his mouth to explore higher on her calves and ankles as Athos moved across to work her other breast into the same state of puckered, exquisite pain borne from the need for more stimulation.

Moving himself upwards from her ankles meant that Porthos was closer to Athos’ groin, and he could smell the unmistakable aroma of heat and arousal emanating from him.   
It was delightful and he needed more of it, so he brought his fingers across to tackle the brass buttons which held up Athos’ leather breeches.  
He felt an accepting groan of desire from his fellow musketeer and dragged down the garment, noticing his erection pressing hard and prominently against the soft fabric of the cotton braies he wore beneath his outer garments.  
Carefully lifting one knee at a time Athos sighed into his ministrations at Mirielle’s warm, delightfully soft breasts and felt a twitch to his already aching cock as Porthos’ fingers stroked against his bared calves and ankles.  
He briefly glanced over his shoulder and caught Porthos’ heated, dark eyes.   
“Come here and help me,” he drawled, smirking as he caught Porthos sly smile and moving to one side of the deliriously squirming body of Mirielle to allow his comrade equal access to her.

“Do you mind if we both pleasure you, Madam?” Athos asked, hitching himself further up the bed, his barely covered cock rubbing tortuously against the softness of her hip as he met her swirling blue-grey eyes with his own, intensely penetrating green ones.  
She nodded and made a slight intake of breath as Porthos’ hands slid up against the skin of her leg, sliding across her flat belly as he took over the tantalising attention to her neglected breasts, Athos’s mouth finding hers again and delivering a searing kiss, sucking the breath from her lungs as his hand joined Porthos’ moving closer and closer to the place between her legs which had been quivering and on fire since she’d witnessed the two gentlemen being deposited into her chamber.

Easing himself back from her body it was Athos who discarded his shirt first, tossing it aside and reaching across to tug Porthos’ from the waist of his breeches before leaning back and smiling as his fellow musketeer dragged himself upright and pulled the garment over his head.  
His broad, deeply scarred back was beautiful in the dim candlelight and Athos could not resist running his palm across the dark skin, feeling the slight shimmer of sweat in the small of his back.  
Porthos’ eyes scanned the chest of Athos; he’d of course seen his body, they’d both seen each others’ nakedness before; but on this occasions, and in this proximity every sense was heightened. His own cock was pressing painfully against the leather of his breeches.  
He reached his own hand across and trailed it down the muscle and hair covering the older musketeer’s chest, pausing briefly before continuing to allow his hand down to cover and press against the firmness he knew he would find beneath the thin, cotton braies.

Athos was dimly aware that Porthos’ hand was covering his rigid cock….he was also aware that it felt amazing, and he wanted more and more of these sensations.

Mirielle smiled and watched, delighting in the pleasure they appeared to take in each other as well as in her.   
She watched as Athos’ fingers moved to the front of Porthos’ breeches and began unfastening the brass buttons; she watched as their lips found each other and they both momentarily paused as their hands clasped at each others’ neck and shoulders in order to reacquaint their tongues; the kisses becoming messy and noisy as their passion ignited.  
She squirmed her body forwards and resumed where Athos’ fingers had stalled, finally unfastening the final button and allowing Porthos’ leather breeches to drop down his hips, showing that he did not wear braies beneath them and releasing his strong, rigid erection.

Mirielle had never seen a man as large and as aroused at Porthos.   
The head of his impressively sized cock was deep red and leaking, casting a jewel-like shimmer to the tip, which Mirielle had the urge to kiss.

Athos felt the moment when Mirielle’s mouth first caressed Porthos as a sharp, hissing breath, followed by a bite to his lower lip. A glance downwards, with his tongue still delving inside Porthos’s growling, eager mouth and his own arousal increased further.  
“Porthos,” he urged, “My braies……please,” and sobbed as he felt Porthos’ capable hands deftly unlace the ties.   
Mirielle’s mouth was working it’s way up and down the length of Porthos' firmness and he found his hand encircling Athos as the thin cotton puddled down to his bent knees.

Mirielle’s gaze was drawn across as she reached the leaking head of Porthos’s cock and the sight of his large, dark hand circling and stroking the equally impressive other specimen was enough to make her gasp.  
She angled her neck and found she was able to alternate delicate licks between both men’s member’s, resulting in deep, guttural groans from each and a renewal of their passionate, panting kisses between each other.

The stimulation to his cock from both Porthos’ insistent and perfect grip combined with the warm, soft wetness of Mirielle’s mouth was making Athos see stars and despite his best intentions was threatening to make him lose control far quicker than was polite, considering that he’d barely given Mirielle any of the pleasure he intended to.  
He pressed his palms firmly against Porthos’s chest, slightly enjoying the pouting expression of the swarthy man who seemed reluctant to break their kiss.

“We shouldn’t neglect our duties,” and he glanced down at Mirielle who was swirling her tongue around the heads of both of their cocks and moaning, her pale legs twitching beneath the flimsy cotton of her petticoat.  
Porthos smirked, impishly and eased his prick away from her eager mouth before sliding around and urging her body to relax against his, kicking his breeches free from his lower legs as he settled them.   
His mouth nuzzled against her ear and neck, his hands moved around and slid the hem of her blouse up and over her head, kissing along the creamy skin of her neck and shoulders as he tossed it aside and pulled her smooth skin against his firm, thickly furred chest.

Athos smiled down and unfastened the bow holding up her petticoat and received a compliant wriggle as he eased it down her hips, revealing a small triangle of fair hairs between her legs. Working his way back up her body Athos pressed his hands against her thighs and made a small gasp as she parted her legs and allowed him access to her pink seam. 

From his position behind her Porthos was able to look down as he watched Athos extend his tongue and swirl the tip into the mound of hairs initially, siding his hands up her thighs and hips and grazing the firm muscles of Porthos’ hips as he began to lick further down between her legs.

“Finally I get to watch the master at work!” Porthos grinned, waggling his eyebrows as Athos glanced up and arched a single brow as if to say, “Who’s been talking?”  
Unheeded, he licked his lips and toyed his fingers against her sopping, velvety lips. He wriggled his shoulders and hips more comfortably and eased Mirielle’s legs wider apart, urging Porthos’ ankles around them to add a level of restraint.  
“I’m only asking him to hold you still my dear…..if at any point you wish me to stop you only need to say,” and with no time for Mirielle to consider her response she gasped and squirmed delightedly, as he lapped his tongue against her entrance like a kitten devouring cream, twisting his neck and teasing his tongue further forwards before sucking his mouth around the bead of pink skin she enjoyed rubbing against herself for pleasure.   
The feeling of his mouth latched onto her and almost nibbling however felt nothing at all like her fingers there.

Porthos seemed to take equal delight in watching Athos as she did on the receiving end, and Mirielle could feel his firm erection pressing against her back.   
Porthos was indeed taking a great deal of pleasure from observing how Athos pleased a woman with his mouth.   
He’d been in adjoining rooms and heard the noises his fellow musketeer could reduce a woman to, and it was Aramis who had mentioned his particular skill. It was therefore incredible to be in his current position, watching each tantalising lick and flick of his pink tongue, each grind of his stubbled chin, each teasing stroke of his fingertip.

The larger musketeer sucked powerfully along Mirielle’s neck and shoulder, his large hands cupped and teased her breasts and nipples and between the two men she found herself calling powerfully for help and relief from every deity and pagan God imaginable.

Athos felt the moment she came as a fluttering of her thighs, which attempted to clasp his head closer, although he was already latching fully onto the small nub of nerves which he knew was making her shudder. He also tasted a release of her own juices and continued to lap lower down at her sex; nuzzling and glorying in the flavour she had released purely because of him.

Mirielle had never experienced a sensation like she had just felt.   
Every fibre of her body had been raised to a state of ecstasy, and as she lay, twitching a making small panting sounds in the reassuringly strong arms of Porthos she reflected on the fact that his erection was still pressing into the small of her back, and he appeared to be rubbing himself more purposefully against her as Athos crawled himself languigly up the bed.

He pressed a kiss to her mouth, and shared a groaning chuckle with her as she tasted herself, he then moved further above her and licked out his tongue towards Porthos who captured it and growled at the sweet muskiness he tasted as their mouths became engaged in a further deeply passion filled kiss.  
Mirielle twisted her body to enable the men to gain greater access to each other and allowed her attentions to stray down Athos’ back, enjoying the sight of his firm, pert buttocks clenching and relaxing as he writhed against the firmness of Porthos’ thigh, Porthos’ hands were swarming across his shoulders and back and the pair were quickly becoming lost in each other.

She watched, absorbed in their mutual adoration and exploration of each other.   
Porthos held onto Athos and twisted them over on the mattress so that he was atop his colleague.   
She saw Athos wrap his legs around Porthos’ waist and they ground together for several minutes, Porthos’ back developing a glowing sweat which Mirielle ached to trail her tongue through…..so she did.   
Leaning across she pressed her lips to the indentations in the small of his back and reached her hand across his lightly furred buttocks, trailing her fingertips down to stroke the silky soft skin of his sack.  
Porthos appeared to become aware of her presence again as he eased himself away from Athos’ persistent mouth and hands, making the other man sit up onto his elbows.   
Porthos’ gaze trailed down Athos’ recumbent body and fixed on their equally rigid lengths.   
He turned his attention towards Mirielle and her softly shimmering skin and reached between her legs, toying his gnarled fingers against her folds, finding her wet and welcoming towards his persistence.

Mirielle writhed against the new sensation of a man’s fingers where she’d often allowed her own to stray; and again she marvelled at the difference in the feeling. Porthos’ fingers were the right degree of firm to remain tender and were sliding expertly between her pink lips, circling around her aching entrance.

“Are you ready for a little bit more?” he asked, his voice rumbling deep in his chest.   
Athos continued to observe his friend’s body, marvelling at the bulging biceps and forearm muscles and licked his lips at the sight of his dark hand nestling between the fair hairs and parted thighs of Mirielle.  
Mirielle’s body undulated with delight. She was clearly eager for more stimulation.

“Is she tight?” Athos drawled, shifting in order to be able to reach her breast, lapping against her nipple which stiffened rapidly.  
Porthos growled and nodded, meeting Mirielle’s ecstatic, pleading eyes as he slid one of his thick fingers inside her.  
She thrust herself against the intrusion and gasped as he stroked into her, easing his finger flush inside her and using his palm to rub against her mound for further stimulation.  
Athos watched Porthos intently and wriggled himself across the bed.

“May I?” he asked, and dipped his head down, teasing his tongue across the leaking slit of his friend’s cock and earning a hip thrusting twitch and sworn string of language from his gritted teeth.  
Porthos looked down and nodded, meeting Athos’s green eyes, which never left his as he caressed his cock with his swirling tongue, moving one hand to grip it around the shaft, stroking expertly as his mouth widenened and finally took him into the warm, velvety wetness. 

Athos found his other hand sliding around to grip Porthos’ buttock, pressing him deeper inside his mouth, enjoying the stretched sensation and almost breathless strain of taking his fellow musketeer’s cock in this way.   
He couldn’t explain his enthusiasm, only that it felt perfectly normal and usual, even though he’d never carried out this act on another man before.

Porthos was absolutely amazed at the sensation of his comrade sucking him off; his intent and apparent natural talent was astounding, and the almost animalistic growl which emanated from him when he slid his spare hand through the older man’s tousled hair, tugging his head hard against him was enough to almost make him lose control.  
“Athos, mate….I’m gonna….” and a sharp grunt coincided with Athos removing his mouth from his groin.

Porthos had slid a second finger inside Mirielle, and she was riding out the final spasms of a second, earth shattering orgasm as the men locked lips in a further delving kiss.  
She glanced up at them and made a small pouting sound, causing them to notice her again.

“I’m feeling left out!” she purred, giggling as the men laid down either side of her on the bed and proceeded to kiss and caress her, their tongues and lips taking turns, or battling for domination at her mouth, frequently side tracking into each other’s before returning to moan and slide their tongues against hers.

Their hands roamed across her skin, each cupped and toyed with a breast, she wriggled her hands down, gripping each man’s rigid shaft and stroking in time with their kisses, each man receiving gentle, but tantalisingly soft strokes as they gave her mouth or nipple attention.  
Athos nuzzled his way to her shoulder and observed the effect of her hands on their erections.

“Are you a maid?” he asked, panting and fighting with his desire to thrust rapidly into her grip for his release.  
Mirielle grasped her lip between her neat teeth, “Yes…..but I would like not to be in the morning,” she smiled.

Athos inhaled slowly and glanced purposefully down at his and Porthos’ manhoods, “And which of these would you like to be fucked by first, my dear?”


	4. Athos’ gloriously sculpted arse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK.....cards on the table time.....this is really VERY RUDE indeed!  
> In my defence it was written for a very specific 'wish list' / prompt.  
> HOWEVER, if the slashy stuff really isn't your thing I have tried to show ******LIKE THIS****** where the real man on man bottie stuff gets going.......

Mirielle groaned and followed his gaze.   
Athos’s cock was slightly smaller than Porthos’, but both were impressively sized, and her small hand struggled to fully encase the girth of each. The dark, teak colour of Porthos’ cock made it particularly alluring, and as she lay and considered that surely it wasn’t possible to make the wrong decision, she recalled the sensation of Porthos’ fingers inside her.

“I want this one first,” she flicked her thumb across the leaking slit of Porthos’ cock, “But I want yours too……please fuck me after….please,” her voice cracked as Porthos adjusted his position and moved her beneath him, pushing back her leg.

“This might hurt you,” he snarled as he positioned himself, rubbing her own juices with his against her tight opening, “But it’s going to feel so good….I promise.”

Mirielle felt the size of him and momentarily panicked as he pressed himself into her. He met a little resistance and pulled back, pushing forwards again and this time breaking through the barrier within her walls, feeling the increased warmth as he thrust inside her tightness.  
Beneath him Mirielle had tensed and shouted briefly, but on his second thrust had merely tossed back her head against the pillow and was now grasping at the mattress as he filled her entirely.

Porthos held back a little on his usual pace; he was fighting with the sensation of how tight she felt, her walls fluttering and stretching around him. But, he couldn’t risk hurting her, and he needed to be sure that she was enjoying this experience before he felt that he could seek his own pleasure.  
Athos was watching intently as Porthos’ cock disappeared inside her.   
He was holding her bent leg back gently, making her more visible to his gaze as he whispered gently for Porthos to “Pull back and let me watch you enter her again.”

Porthos was highly aroused by Athos’ presence and obliged, withdrawing most of his 8 inches and enjoying Athos’ hissed moan of “Yeeeesssss” as he slowing slid back deeply inside her stretched, pink entrance.  
Athos continued watching and kissed along her thigh, across Porthos’ hipbone and stomach, sucking on one of his small, burgundy nipples before moving up the mattress and focussing his attention on Mirielle’s mouth, kissing her tenderly and smiling into her eyes, helping her to focus on the plethora of emotions overwhelming her as Porthos began to thrust faster and deeper inside her.

Porthos had slipped his palms beneath Mirielle’s buttocks and was tilting her slightly against him, ensuring that his entire length filled her, and also that his thrusts were met with a resistance that she was currently not capable, or knowledgeable about providing.  
The sight of Athos caressing her mouth, the sound of his whispered terms on endearment, of his soft and careful instructions and tender assurances made Porthos growl, and he realised his own eyes had drifted down to Athos’s arse which was facing him, close to his hands clasping at Mirielle.

He’d never had any interest in men in a sexual way, but Jesus, he wanted to sink his teeth into the pert, dimpled musculature of Athos’ gloriously sculpted arse!

Mirielle was starting to whimper in his arms, and as Athos moved his hands to fondle her breasts she found herself experiencing another completely new and heavenly sensation.  
She couldn’t prevent her mouth from opening and releasing a loud stream of almost unearthly sounds, and purple lights flashed before her eyes as she panted and rolled languidly against the pillows.  
Porthos could sense she was as high as possible and the tightening of her walls around him made him lose control himself.   
He pounded his hips against her, enjoying the wet sounds as he moved more freely in and out of her and as Athos glanced over his shoulder and instructed him he tossed back his head and pulsed his copious release inside Mirielle’s pliant body.

As gently as possible he withdrew from her and pulled her ontop of him, cradling her body in his slightly shaky, but still powerfully engulfing arms, kissing her brow, eyelids, cheeks and lips.

Athos’s hand was stroking along her back and thighs.   
His own erection was now painful in its need for release, and although he knew that he should allow Mirielle some time to recover he was feeling almost desperate, and his thoughts were beginning to wander towards the possibility of what his fellow musketeer could offer.  
His hand dipped between Mirielle's buttocks and found her soaked and still fluttering lips.   
He heard her gasp and squirm back against his hand and deftly lifted her hips with his firm hands. He dipped his face down and languorously licked the combination of her own and Porthos’ release from her, knowing from the noises being made that Porthos was kissing her mouth to silence her whimpers of…..maybe delight, maybe torment with overstimulation.

“Do you still want my cock inside you as well?” he drawled, licking along her thigh and giving a small, nipping bite with his teeth.  
Mirielle used her mouth to push back and twisted her head over her shoulder, “I want you to fuck me,” she hissed and bit her lip as he brought her parted hips down over his iron-like rod.  
Unlike Porthos he moved instantly, pumping himself fully inside her rapidly and slamming his hips against the soft roundedness of her backside as he fucked in and out of her.

Porthos wriggled down and took her breasts into his mouth, lapping at each in turn before mimicking the rhythm and pace of Athos’s thrusts with his tongue.  
Glancing back over his shoulder briefly Athos was aware that Porthos’ cock was now semi erect again and almost level with his arse if he were to lower his hips down….God, the thought was tempting.

Something inside of Porthos made him sense that Athos was watching him, and he felt a twitch to his cock.   
He was also aware that his present position meant that he wasn’t able to see Athos….and he wanted to see him….he wanted to watch that muscled backside flexing his cock into Mirielle’s cunt. So, Porthos slid himself sideways and managed to extract himself from the joined pair, made simpler because Athos lifted Mirielle’s body up onto her knees as he continued to fuck into her from behind.

Mirielle was enjoying the place that Athos’ cock was hitting against within her.   
He seemed to have discovered the same place inside her that Porthos’ fingers had stroked….only it was Athos’ cock that kept repeatedly stroking and rubbing against it….and with such a powerfully persistent rhythm.   
She gave herself completely over to his demands, and felt like her body was being moulded into his.

Having extracted himself from the copulating pair Porthos’ eyes were again drawn to the pert, dimpled buttocks of his fellow musketeer and he found himself pressing his mouth against the slightly downy, sweat-dampened skin.  
Athos was dimly aware of Porthos’ movements, but became fully aware of the sensation of his lips travelling across the skin of his arse…..and damn it, but he didn’t want it to stop.  
He snarled as he fucked harder into Mirielle and urged Porthos, “Don’t hold back…pleeeeese.”

*****IT GETS A BIT MORE BOTTIE RELATED FROM THIS POINT*********  
*******IF YOU PREFER TO AVOID IT SCAN DOWN FOR THE**********  
xxxxxxxxxxxALL CLEAR XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Moving to kneel on the floor behind Athos, Porthos stroked and massaged his friend’s arse, pressing and manipulating each cheek in his palms and licking his tongue across the skin, down as far as the whisper-soft heat of his sack.  
Each press and caress widened the cleft between his arse, and after a few tortuous moments for both men, during which time Porthos seriously asked himself what he was considering doing to Athos; and Athos seriously asked himself what the fuck was it that he wanted Porthos to do to him, Porthos splayed Athos’ most intimate entrance to him and the dim light of the room.  
Its slightly darkened pucker of skin was like a beacon, beckoning to Porthos’ hungry gaze, and he swept his tongue the full length of Athos’ seam, revelling in the musky, earthy and salty flavour of his friend.

The action had caused Athos to falter in his thrusting attention to Mirielle, and he had almost stilled, pulsing his hips lightly up into her heat.   
It was a pleasing respite for her, and she undulated against him, enjoying that she could control her own movements and push back or lift herself to vary the sensation.

Every fibre of Athos’ brain was on fire.   
His cock encased in a delightfully tight and welcoming pussy was divine, but the stubbled cheeks and warm, wet tongue of Porthos teasing his arsehole was sublime….and Jesus, if he kept flicking against his hole in the manner he was currently doing he might forget about Mirielle completely!

Porthos’ initial trepidation at his own desire had fallen away the second he’d received the encouraging order from his colleague.   
He was now firmly planted between Athos’ cheeks, using his palms and splayed fingers to part them and access the small, pliant entrance which he was now, to his…..delight?........ horror? pressing his tongue firmly against and almost penetrating.   
He sensed that Athos had ceased pumping into Mirielle, and the softer, movements of his hips were all the more sensual and arousing as he knew that were to ensure that Porthos could continue his current focus.

“Can I?........More?” Porthos panted, licking and stroking one finger closer and closer to the softening puckered hole.  
Athos groaned, “God help me…..yes, yes….Porthos….please,” and glanced over his shoulder, his green eyes blown wide with arousal meeting the almost black gaze of Porthos.

A growl started in the larger man’s chest and he resumed his oral onslaught on Athos, pushing him forwards onto all fours, and naturally taking Mirielle with him.  
The position brought Athos’ arse higher and gave Porthos increased access to him which his tongue sought out, winding Athos higher and higher.  
Porthos slid his fingers beneath Athos’ legs and collected some of the fluids seeping from Mirielle’s cunt before he stroked and pressed firmly against Athos’ hole, watching and gasping as his finger slowly disappeared inside.  
Athos’ mouth released a string of blasphemous shouts, and his cock twitched within Mirielle before he started to resume his thrusting hips against her, his sack slapping noisily against her moist skin.

Each thrust forwards into her gave him a reason to thrust back against the intrusion from Porthos, and Porthos’ finger was stroking further into him with each movement.

Porthos himself watched, mesmerized by how Athos was taking this, by what he was being permitted to do to his fellow soldier….and part of him wanted him to reciprocate.

Athos could feel a familiar tensing coil start to unravel low down in his spine. He knew that he was about to cum….and he also knew that once he did there was a strong possibility that this amazing sensation from Porthos would stop.

“Oh God….nooooo,” he sobbed as Mirielle felt his fingers reach down to rub against the nub of skin nestled in her mound of hair.   
She felt her own orgasm detonate as he came within her and slumped forwards onto the bed as he slid his spent cock from her.

“You had enough?” Porthos drawled, hoping desperately that his friend’s response would be a negative one.

“Fucking get up here and kiss me,” Athos demanded in that clipped, aristocratic drawl which Porthos found impossible to ignore.

He withdrew his finger and quickly knelt against Athos’s shaking body, taking his cheeks between his palms and kissing him fiercely.  
Athos covered his hands with his own, and purposefully moved the one he had been using already down to his buttocks, “Please……continue,” he asked, using such a soft, pleading voice that Porthos sobbed into his mouth and instantly located his hole again, finding it easier to press into Athos having already relaxed his entrance.  
Athos’s hand slid across to Porthos’ hip and around his waist, holding onto him and smoothing his palm across and down, covering his buttocks and toying, questioningly at the cleft between them.

Porthos was almost heady with the sensation of breathlessly kissing Athos, of sharing his oxygen, of recognising his comrade’s need and being able to offer such a powerfully personal act…..albeit under the influence of something which had clearly been given to them.

SHIT!

He had not thought about that previously……because he hadn’t truly been thinking; he’d just been acting on his impulses without thinking.  
If he was now considering that they’d been drugged….did that mean the effects had worn off? And did that mean that now he was fully aware of what he was doing?   
Was he fully aware and fingering Athos’ arse and pretty desperate for him to do the same to him?

SHIT!

Athos felt a slight tensing to his friend and assumed it was because he didn’t want him to offer the same service as he was currently receiving.   
Mirielle appeared to be gently slumbering at the top of the bed, and Porthos’ tongue tasted amazing in his mouth….if he didn’t want to be penetrated by him so be it….his mouth was perfect, and his tongue tasted sweet…like the wine he’d drunk earlier in the night….wine that had made him incredibly drunk….drunk enough to end up comatose in a bed.  
But he was definitely no longer comatose….and he was now fully aware that the look in Porthos’ eyes appeared direct, not fuzzy or blurred, or vacant……but completely……like Porthos.

FUCK!

Where they now no longer acting under the influence of drink?  
So he wanted this?   
He actually wanted Porthos’ fingers fucking into his arse?

FUCK!

“Porthos,” he panted, “We’re drunk aren’t we?” he mumbled, gasping slightly as he felt a larger intrusion to his hole.  
Porthos had added a second finger to Athos’ arse and was building up a glorious rhythm, mimicking it with his tongue in his mouth.

“Completely drunk….and I think drugged…..I want to fuck you…” he panted and snarled wolfishly as Athos growled, slid back on his haunches and onto his back, hitching his knees and legs back high to show Porthos exactly where he wanted him to be.

**********OK, IT GETS NAUGHTIER STILL......AND PORTHOS IS GONNA FUCK ATHOS****************  
*********SKIP TO THE ALL CLEAR IF YOUR PREFER**********************

Porthos glanced down at the appealing sight of his splayed comrade, but considered how large his cock was compared to a couple of fingers and looked quickly around the cellar. There was a cupboard and a shelf above it which looked to contain bottles and jars, one of which looked like olives.  
He eased off the bed and heard the mumbled groan of frustration from Athos.

“I’ll be back…..just ‘old on a minute…..I don’t want to hurt you,” he explained and padded across to the shelf.   
He was correct in that one of the jars contained olives, which were being suspended in oil.  
He carried the open jar back across to the bed and dipped his hand into it, warming the thick oil slightly in his palm before slicking it across Athos’ hole and deftly sliding two fingers back inside.   
Athos gasped at the speed of the action, but also at the added ease and sensation of whatever it was Porthos had fetched.  
Athos pulsed his hips and undulated against Porthos’ fingers and called him a variety of names – some loving, some insulting – as he added a third finger and began to fuck him with his hand.

Porthos was watching as Athos gave himself fully to the range of sensations being inflicted upon him.   
He wasn’t drunk; he wasn’t drugged any longer…..but if that was how they would justify this in the morning so be it!

“Porth-ooooossss,” Athos’ whispered demand caused Porthos to be aware of his own needs again, and he slid his free hand back to the olive jar, scooping up more of the yellowy-green oil and slathering it along his rigid cock.   
The sensation of the oil from his own palm was like a bolt of lightening and he swiftly removed his hand from Athos’s hole replacing it with the head of his cock, which he notched into place and eased slowly forwards.  
Both men held each other’s gaze, their breathes seemed to match up in rhythm as they battled with completely new emotions and feelings. 

Athos and Aramis had enjoyed certain pleasures together, but Athos had never been in this position; and Porthos had certainly never given this kind of pleasure to a man before.

Using his oil covered hands, Porthos pulled and eased himself deeper into Athos.  
He felt the moment when he had passed the point he’d prepared with his fingers – there was a definite resistance and Athos sucked his breath in across his teeth.  
“You OK?” Porthos asked, panting and attempting to control himself as he steadied his body above Athos.  
Athos clasped his hands around Porthos’ neck firmly and hitched his legs higher and wider, his heels digging into Porthos’ buttocks and urging him on, “I’m more than alright….now fuck me…properly.”

Athos licked into Porthos’ mouth and as their lips devoured each other Porthos pulled back before pressing fully inside Athos, and beginning a powerful, thrusting, which was met and returned by the man beneath him who appeared to be ecstatic about what was taking place.

They moved together perfectly for what felt like a long time; their movements both animalistic and tender; their mouths probing and breathy; their hands strong and caressing. 

Mirielle was dimly aware of the movement on the mattress and watched for several minutes, thinking that the two men looked perfect together; they looked deeply romantic and in love….she hoped it had looked like that when they’d been fucking her….but she quickly drifted to sleep long before the two men were satiated.

Porthos could feel himself getting close to release; it was impossible not to given the range of sensations, textures, scents and tastes between them.  
“Athos……’thos, I need to cum,” he hissed, only allowing his lips apart long enough to make his statement.

“Push back,” Athos panted and assisted in pushing Porthos up onto his powerful arms above him. This altered the angle of his prick inside Athos, who shouted to a range of deities as he pushed forwards and hit a new spot within him.

“That good?” Porthos asked, smugly, although he knew the answer from the expression of bliss on his……comrade’s?......lover’s? face.

“Too fucking good….I thought you were going to cum?” he snarled and slid his own hand around to his own cock, stroking the shaft quickly and firmly, his forearm moving rapidly.  
Porthos was spurred on to increase the pace and depth of his intrusions and knew that he was not going to last.   
Seeing Athos’ face contort as he started to spurt creamy ribbons of cum across his belly triggered his own release like a bullet from a pistol shot and he pumped himself dry into Athos’ arse as the other man rolled and twitched beneath him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX ALL CLEARxXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Fuck!” one of them managed to mumble.  
“Jesus Christ!” one of them muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....and......breathe.....pour yourself a Baileys and get on with some ironing!


	5. We're king's musketeers, darlin'!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No more smut, BUT.....our lucky lady escapes with her burly bed fellows, and the possibility of more adventures in the future is very much left open

The dawn light filtering in through the narrow window slits caused Mirielle to wake first. She glanced around and realised her state; a tingle between her legs and a stiffness in her shoulders confirmed the slightly fuzzy memories of the previous evening.   
The two specimens of powerful masculinity who were currently curled around each other rather charmingly had given her a gloriously enjoyable evening…..and to have her maidenhood taken in such a manner was definitely more more pleasant than many alternatives!

She was able to get out of the bed, wash and dress without disturbing the men.   
Their naked bodies were rather splendid.   
She traced various scars and healed bullet holes across the back of the larger man who was curled around the other one, his arms crossed over his chest as the other man nuzzled on his back against his chest, breathing slightly noisily through parted lips as he slumbered.  
Their cocks were still impressive even in their flaccid, resting states, and Mirielle felt a slight flutter in her core at the thought that both had entered and pleasured her so fully.

She lit a small fire in the grate and sliced day old bread to toast and busied herself in this way as the two men began to rouse.  
The aroma of food wafted beneath Porthos’ nostrils and he sighed at the sensation of a warm body in his arms.   
He slid his hands down and felt the hairy chest of Athos beneath his palms.  
Memories of the previous evening flickered back into his mind and he was in the process of pulling away from the other man when he heard a familiar clipped voice,  
“We were clearly drunk and drugged….so we were hardly responsible for anything we did…..everything is normal this morning…..so kindly remove your prick from my back!”

Porthos grinned ruefully and got out of the bed. He cricked his shoulders and back as he stood and went across to a bowl of water to wash.

Athos rolled himself over and winced at the odd sensation to his backside, memories of the delightful experiences between him, Porthos and that delightful young lady flooding back to him and to his surprise and slight embarrassment nudging his cock to semi hardness.

Mirielle heard the movement and appeared bearing a platter of toasted bread slathered in beef fat.  
Both men initially moved to cover themselves, but she flicked both such an alluringly sweet smile that they shrugged and dove on the platter instead.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here then?” she asked and it was Athos who explained their mission.  
Mirielle laughed outloud at the thought of her step sisters being considered as suitable matches based on their beauty.

“ I assume they switched your wine just before they joined the hall?” she asked and Athos nodded as he thought back to the previous evening.

“It would appear so, my tolerance for alcohol is legendary….so I assume they added something, although I didn’t drink all of mine….and presumably they had not factored in the size of my friend here…hence why the drug appeared to have a more…..unusual affect.”

“I’m not complaining…..it’s certainly been a lot more fun that my usual life down here!” Mirielle said.

Porthos asked her about her history as Athos washed and started to dress.  
The men exchanged a glance as Porthos emptied his bladder before pulling on his breeches and shirt.

“Would your father have a problem if you were to leave here?” Athos asked.

Mirielle considered his question, “I suppose it would depend on where I would go to…and why?”

Porthos sniffed, “Don’t suppose you’ve got access to any posh frocks ‘ave ya?”

Mirielle gave a haughty twitch of her nose, “As a matter of fact I have several rather beautiful gowns…..my father has smuggled them down to me for my past 3 birthdays…I just never wear them….far too grubby down here!”  
Athos gave her a wicked smirk, “Well then….go and get yourself dressed in one…and bear in mind you’ll be on a horse for most of today.”  
“But why?” she asked.

“Well….that nobleman’s son who needs a wife is rather a pleasant young man….and you appear to be a rather pleasant young lady. He is in need of a wife….and you are I need of…….well, a life!” Athos arched an eyebrow and smiled in a way which made the sides of his green eyes crinkle.

Less than an hour later Mirielle was dressed in a beautiful deep blue gown which flattered her shape and which had been adequately, if not expertly, fitted onto her by the two musketeers.  
“How are you intending to let me leave here?” she asked as the men fitted on their own boots and hats.

Porthos grinned broadly, showing his white teeth, “We’re King’s musketeers darlin’……and you’re coming with us, so if anyone wants to argue…..let ‘em!”

Athos gave a curt nod as Porthos led Mirielle by the arm out of the cellar entrance and up several winding stairs and corridors.   
A number of servants were up and about early in the chateau and exchanged odd glances, but noted the pauldrons of the musketeers, and the impressive gown of the beautiful lady and ‘ignored’ them, as was their place.

They reached the main chateau and Athos directed them up the staircase which lead to the chamber they had used earlier and which should still contain their weapons belts and saddle bags.  
Once inside the chamber Mirielle realised she’d been holding her breath.  
The two men packed their saddle bags efficiently, tossing items across the room into waiting hands as if practised many times before.

“What about these?” Porthos indicated the two, inaccurate paintings on the side table.

“Leave them….they’re no use to us,” Athos replied, fastening the buckle on his sword belt around his waist and clipping his pistol into the belt at his left side.  
He turned to Mirielle, “We’ll have to saddle the horses…I’m afraid the stables will be rather aromatic,” he explained, almost forgetting due to the dress on her that Mirielle was used to living in squalor.

They moved swiftly and without obstruction through the chateau and out to the stables where Porthos quickly saddled his own mount before helping Athos, who had initially been unable to locate his reins and saddle, with his.  
Athos mounted up and scooted backwards as far as he could, “Ready?” he asked, indicating with his head where she should settle herself.  
In her usual clothing she would have confidently sprung up to ride astride infront of him, but the cumbersome gown was inhibiting.  
Porthos however lifted her and helped to settle her sideways across the saddle, her calves rested slightly over Athos' thigh, and his forearms held her securely as he clasped the reins in his gloved hands.

As the two horses clattered across the stableyard and main entry to the chateau they were finally halted, albeit by just a couple of rather terrified looking guards.

“Out of the way,” shouted Porthos and one of the two actually flinched and appeared to hide behind his partner, causing Mirielle to stifle a giggle by biting her lip.  
“We’ve been told to make sure you have the paintings and that you will give a positive affirmation of their likeness,” the less cowering of the pair stated.  
Athos inclined his head as he answered, “Then you can be assured that we have the best possible likeness and I can confirm that the master of the house will have one of his daughters married to a very high ranking nobleman before the month is out!” and with that he clicked his heels into his black mare and spurred it on into a canter, Porthos followed behind with a salute to his hat.

The journey to Paris was uneventful and upon their arrival Mirielle was presented to the King, who approved greatly of the musketeer’s actions and choice, and then she was introduced to Richard who was of course instantly delighted with the choice placed before him.  
They were married a month later.  
Their home was on the outskirts of Paris….a large and spacious manor which was within an easy riding distance for a couple of musketeers….and on more than one occasion two of them attended to business there….and always stayed the night!


End file.
